


All Eyes on You

by holdinglines



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Circus, Dark Carnival, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 12:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21179288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdinglines/pseuds/holdinglines
Summary: Once, a long time ago, a little Lavellan was kidnapped.





	All Eyes on You

It had been raining the day Sionna had been kidnapped. Most of it was hazy, she was only five when it happened, but she remembered the smell of upturned dirt, of rotting leaves and a world colored grey.

It was barely a town, without an alienage and one well to share among them all, and their clan’s arrival was probably the most exciting thing to happen to it in years. They approached it with the same caution they always did: the teenagers who were on the cusp of earning their vallaslin would handle trading. Sionna had apparently cried and cried about Rasa going off on another adventure without her. Their parents refused, but Rasa was never one to let technicalities get the better of her. She put Sionna in a basket with a pile of blankets over her and no one was wiser.

The next thing she knew someone lifted them off her and she was face-to-face with someone she’d never met. Sionna had never seen a real shemlen, and found it only polite to ask if he really was one before she made any assumptions. He told her no, and she believed him.

They chatted —about what she couldn’t recall— while the teenagers bartered the clan’s goods. He dazzled her with sleight of hand tricks and jokes she couldn’t understand, but he laughed so hard at them she couldn’t help but laugh with him. He told her wonderful stories about the towns he’d visited and his larger than life family.

“I work at a circus, have you ever been to a circus, bean?”

She smiled and shook her head. She liked how he called her bean.

“Oh it’s a fantastic place. We travel in caravans—“

“Like aravels?”

“Yes yes, exactly so. We have tents and camp all together, we’re a happy family.”

“Just like us! El’elvhenan!”

He smiled at her in a way that reminded her of her father. “Of course I am, would I lie to a cute little kid like you?” He ruffled her hair as she giggled. “Let me show you my clan, little bean. We’ll have so much fun together.”

Sionna liked to say that she said no, that her parents would worry and that he had to take her kicking and screaming. In truth she couldn't remember. All she really remembered was her hand in his as she skipped off. Sionna hated that the most; how easily she turned her back on her clan for one man’s lies.

Outside the makeshift stall the teens had set up, the sounds and sights of the town overwhelmed her. It was too bright, too loud, too much for the little elf and froze in the middle of the road. Without missing a beat, he picked her up and placed her on his shoulders. It helped, but she knows she probably curled around his head like a giant hat.

Once outside the town, the familiar smells of the woods comforted her. Perhaps her clan was nearby, perhaps if she had just raised her head they would’ve seen her and saved her.

But she hadn’t. She didn’t uncurl from his head until he told her they were at the circus. He peeled her off of him as she stared in wonder at his . His aravels were strange and looked more like colorful boxes instead of the beautiful ships she was used to. All their tents were far too small for more than one, maybe two, people to sleep in and the one that  _ was _ big enough was so comically large she had to laugh.

“Falon felasil, an’irassal, garas’eir.”

She felt him chuckle beneath her and she practically glowed with pride. When they spoke in the marketplace, he ooh-ed and aww-ed every time she spoke their Elvish, even when she messed up and it made her want to try to talk more.

Every person the met was busy at work taking down the tents and preparing to leave. Sionna nodded her little head at this wise decision. Grownups got nervous if there were too many elvhenan together, though she didn’t know why, so it was only polite for one of the clans to leave. Since they’d gotten there first, she thought it was very big of her new friend to let them have it.

Sionna’s head swivelled this way and that as she marvelled at how different this clan was compared to her own. 

She pointed at a group of dwarfs as they stacked and carried crates off. “Durgen’len live with you?”

“Hm? Oh them, yes. Quite a novelty, eh? Most of these backwater hovels ain’t never seen one a you, let alone a dwarf before.”

She nodded but had tuned him out at the site of what looked like a half-bear half-woman thing leading a herd of animals she’d never seen before.

“All little girls like horses.” he laughed.

There weren’t just horses (though there were some truly giant beasts and some that were barely taller than the dwarfs), she saw harts and hallas, and even a  _ bear _ . What was strangest though was how the monster horses were taken to the front of each caravan, while the rest went into the aravels. It made no sense. Halla shouldn’t,  _ couldn’t _ , be caged and led clans where they were needed.

She was about to ask if their animals were sick, when she caught sight of an elf with beautiful red vallaslin, she waved and was delighted when she waved back.

It didn’t look or feel like her home, but Sionna still thought his family was wonderful. He introduced singing dwarf sisters, a witch from the icy south, and he had her open a small box and to her delight a woman’s legs bloomed out, followed by the rest of her. All their foods were sprinkled with spices she couldn’t identify, and were all on sticks for easy eating.

At some point she had wiggled away from him and had run into what she thought was a rock wearing pants. Sionna was small even for a kid, but she nearly fell onto her back trying to see the end of him. Cold and grey, her friend told her that this was their ‘devil man’, that it had been carved out of a mountain by the Maker himself, and was the strongest thing in Thedas.

He warned her not to get too close, since he ate the last child that did.

But she didn’t care. All she wanted to know was why his parents named him something like ‘devil boy’.

He explained that, despite being shaped like a man, he wasn’t like them. He wasn’t even a he, but an it.

That should’ve been her first clue to run.

Instead she went up to the mountain man, told him she was had some food sticks for him, and put them in his giant hands while she kissed his knuckles.

Sionna couldn’t ever remember being afraid of him. Even when she barely reached his hip, even with that terrifying iron mask he wore. 

Her second clue was when he introduced her to another elf. It wasn’t the pretty girl with the red vallaslin, but a dark beauty with bangles and jewelry she desperately wanted to pull. She tattooed, said they had special meaning to her Dalish clan. Her smile slid off with each question Sionna asked. Because even a child could spot the holes in her story. But this was the circus and a little village where most went their whole life without seeing an elf, let alone one of the Dalish.

She tried to divine Sionna’s fortune and commune with the ancient gods, but couldn’t get even one name right. Three cards were placed in front of Sionna, and if she told her something important, she couldn’t remember.

When the sun went down —which they didn’t notice because of the clouds but felt by the sharp drop in temperature— and her belly was full of curious meats, Sionna finally asked him if she could go home. He patted her head and told her to get some rest in his office. When she woke up, he’d take her home. His office was also his bedroom in a specialized aravel, and she felt a wave of familiarity at the sight. She curled at the foot of his bed, not wanting to take up unnecessary space, and fell asleep.

She woke to the gentle rock of the caravan moving. It was both a lullaby and a cuckoo clock. He was working away at his desk when she asked.

“When can I go home?”   
“We tried to wake you,” he said without looking up. “But you looked like an angel while you slept, I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.”

When they stopped, he promised, he’d take her home.

The next town was bigger than the last, but was still all shem. He built a pen and told her to stay there until he came to get her.

“You know those humans. You don’t know what’d they do to a little bean like you.”

“You mean shemlen?”   
“Those too.”

It was boring, waiting in a muddy pit, but she still trusted him. And Sionna was a good girl, she could wait a little bit. To keep herself occupied, she started to play. She made mud pies and castles, she made little rivers and stuck sticks to make forests, and while she was digging for worms did she notice a crowd of shemlen watching her. They pointed and whispered, and one little boy stuck his hand through the pen and waved. She waved back and started to get up to say hello when the boy’s mother pulled him away and they ran.

The rest of the day went on like that.

She started to get hungry around noon, but her friend still hadn’t returned. She came to the edge of the pen and was shocked to see it spiked on her side. There wasn’t a clear area for her to climb it without hurting herself, and there wasn’t enough space to crawl under it. The best she could do was stick one arm out and ask passerbys for food, and even that left her with several cuts.

It started to drizzle in the afternoon, and he still didn’t come get her. The shemlen hurried into the giant tent, and she watched helplessly as the clan members and animals followed in as well.

She spent that night in the pen, listening to the cheers and applause to a show she wasn’t invited to.

The next morning a shemlen she didn’t recognize slid two pans underneath the boards, one with some flatbread and the other with water. She didn’t want her muddy hands to get the water dirty, so she got on her belly and slurped it up while people ogled and laughed. They laughed a lot at her those first few days, both clan and shemlen gawkers alike.

Sionna remembered a barker drawing crowd after crowd to her pen. He called her savage. Said the Dalish ate shemlen flesh and stole away their children. Called them demons with people skins. Used shemlen blood for wicked practices. They paid to throw food at her, to touch her and to get a drawing of themselves with her on their lap. She didn’t sleep that night, because the barker claimed that elf teeth could be grounded into a powder to make a youth potion, and she was afraid he’d steal hers while she slept.

Only once did she see her friend, and he was so angry she wasn’t sure she  _ wanted _ him to see her. He was yelled and pointed in her direction and mentioned her tattoos. She didn’t know what the big deal was, all the kids got them drawn on to play different roles in the clan. They were simplified, sure, but it had plenty of practical purposes: children could practice drawing the actual vallaslin, could pretend to be adults and do chores associated with whatever harelslin they were wearing, and let them gain better insight to what they’d want for their future. Plus, it was fun to wear and put on. She didn’t understand why it was such a big deal.

In hindsight, they were probably worried that without it she looked less ‘authentic’.

That same day the fortune-teller elf began to visit her. She only came late at night, long after the crowds had left and would repaint her harelslin. Sionna fought here every time, partly because she drew gibberish that gave her a headache , but mostly so the lady would stay with her longer.

She didn’t know how long they stayed at that village, but she remembered when they finally moved on. She and the devil man shared a cage with the halla. Sionna had learned that several of the fantastical animals only appeared that way through trickery. Halla though. Those she knew like the back of her own hand.

They were all crammed in together with barely any space to breathe, let alone move. It wasn’t fair, they were all stuck in a box on top of one another, and just on the other side of the bars was the shining sun and a clear blue sky.

Despite the cool weather, Sionna was drenched in sweat. The hallas hot breath against her back, their horns poking at her so much she had to climb on top of the devil man just to be able to breath.

“Ir abelas, devil man.”

He didn’t bother with a response. She apparently apologized for her behavior a lot that first trip, he told her years later. Chattered a lot too, which didn’t surprise her. After days of no one treating her like a person, of being held by another, she was probably trying to make up for lost time. Maybe she spoke Elvish, or maybe Common, but she doubted he understood her either way. While she climbed all over him, that was probably when she noticed his head was an iron mask.

Perhaps it was loneliness. Perhaps it was how they were both treated no better than animals.

They were kept in the box while the circus was being prepped. If she focused, Sionna could see the farms around them. The shemlen hardly seemed interested in the circus, or maybe they were more interested in their work. The halla were taken and used to pull and push things, and every time someone whipped them to go faster she felt her blood boil.

When the fortune teller came to reapply her harelslin, she tried to ask her to get them to stop hurting the halla, only to get a slap in the face.

“How many times do I have to tell you to only talk in Elvish?”

The crowds came the next day. Sionna still felt the sting on her cheek and just wanted to curl in a ball and sleep forever. The shemlen booed and began to throw rocks at her.

“Vara u’em! Vara, shemlen!”

They squealed and applauded. The louder she yelled, the more they cheered. They said horrid things to her, then laughed when she cried. She couldn’t win.

The devil man was being led to the big tent. He stopped and turned that giant bull head towards her. Sionna couldn’t remember what had happened that day, but she did remember being held in his big arms.

She called him Fallaan after that, and he called her Kith after she bit his handler for whipping him. He was allowed to sit in her pen while they ate. His iron mask made it difficult, so she tore it into small pieces and fed him herself. Pouring water down his throat was a harder endeavour, and the crowd loved their humiliation. At night after every show, he slept in her pen.

“Sa,” she said as she held up one finger. “One.”

Fallaan’s big hand covered her own. “W-One. Sah.” With his other hand he held up his index finger. “Waahid.”

“Waahid.” she repeated. Then she held up two fingers underneath his own. “Ta. Two.”

It was slow going, but they tried to teach, tried to learn. Even though she’d forget most of what he taught her, the fact she tried to understand meant more than she knew.

Once she tried to get his mask off and nearly ripped off her fingernail for all the good it did. The second time she tried, her ‘friend’ that brought her to the circus caught her, and whipped her. She didn’t try a third time.

Her sister found her almost two months later. It was during an evening show, and Sionna was in a pen with the unicorns and halla. She saw her sister before she saw her.

“Rasa!” she cried. She jumped up and down, waving her hands and prayed she heard her. And thank the Creators, she  _ did _ . She jumped over the fence, forced every animal between them out of the way, and the sisters embraced. Sionna cried into Rasa’s shoulder, and let out a wail of agony she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Rasa stroked her hair and kissed her head, whispering affirmations as Sionna choked out the words to describe her awful experience.

Rasa listened to her sister, tried to make sense of what she said. The more she understood, the harder her face became.

“Rasa, where is mamae? Where is papa?”

“They’re behind me, vhenan. We didn’t know if you were still in the town we lost you or somewhere else. I came here alone.”   
“Alone?”

She pressed her forehead against her baby sister’s. “I’d go anywhere to keep you safe, ma vhenan.”

Rasa’s retribution was swift and brutal. She lit the tents afire, set the animals loose and killed anyone who got in her way. Most of them were shemlen from the nearby hamlet, who’d come to marvel at the sights.

Sionna ran between the running legs until she found Fallaan, pulled at his chains and tried to tell him they needed to run. A lady elf, the contortionist she’d met so long ago, grabbed her by the arm and Sionna learned that not every elf was her family. Not every elf wanted to be her family. Fallaan could barely see, but he could hear her cries for help and crushed the contortionist’s skull with one hand. When he reached for her, she flinched away. Rasa saw, let out a cry, and swung her axe down. 

The iron mask split in two, and fell on each side of his head. Rasa blinked in confusion, and began to lift her axe to swing it again, when Sionna raced between them.

“Atish’an, Rasa! Please, please don’t kill him, he’s my friend!” 

The flickering flames of the burning circus stayed in Sionna’s mind long after they had fled. The halla —those beautiful, ghostly,  _ wonderful  _ halla— had been waiting for them just over the hills. She remembered the smell of ash and blood that clung to her sister’s clothes, of how itchy the blanket on her shoulders were. Of Rasa complaining she was gripping her too tightly. People had fought back, and at some point Rasa fainted from blood loss, but Sionna could only remember the screams and her sister wreathed in flames. Others had fled, and when their small group ran into them as they escaped, it was Fallaan who protected them.

They ran into Theodosia this way. Sionna only knew she was an elf by her ears and the glow of her eyes in the moonlight, otherwise she would’ve mistaken her for a dwarf. When she spoke, it was in Fallaan’s tongue.

She looked up at Sionna, a no-nonsense and rather unimpressed expression on her face. “So you really were a Dalish child. Hmph. Guess Bailey should’ve known better than to steal one of  _ those _ kids.”

Sionna didn’t understand what she meant by that, but felt compelled to answer. “Why would I lie about being me?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have doubted  _ you _ . But you can’t blame me for assuming ‘the good serah’ just painted those tattoos onto you to make a bit more coin.”

“He didn’t paint them on. Liana did them.”

“Ah.” she turned to Fallaan and said something to him, then he picked her up and put her onto one of the halla’s back. “Close that mouth a yours child, you’ll attract flies like this.”

Sionna snapped her jaw shut, and they continued onward. Theodosia seemed unimpressed when Sionna told her they were letting the halla lead them while Rasa took a nap, but she quickly shut up when they took them to a stream. Waiting for them were hunters Sionna recognized from her clan.

She closed her eyes. While the fires from the night still played in her mind, they were distant now. She was finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> most of the elvish used was taken by the wonderful and insightful, Project Elvhen! however I am, how u say, AWFUL at linguistics so there's still a chance my translations aren't entirely accurate but!  
"El’elvhenan!" = "we are elves!"
> 
> “Falon felasil, an’irassal, garas’eir .” = “Silly friend, wherever you are, winter will come”
> 
> "Durgen’len" (dwarfs)
> 
> harelslin = this word i made up myself, "lying words", basically removable/washable vallaslin children wear
> 
> Ir abelas = I'm sorry
> 
> Vara u’em! Vara, shemlen! = leave me alone. go away humans
> 
> fallaan = big friend
> 
> atish'an = peace, stop


End file.
